


Unlimited

by AurigaVenatici (p_3a)



Series: 30 Prompt NSFW Challenge [28]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Exhaustion, Forced Breeding, Forced Ejaculation, Happy Ending, Inflation, Kidnapping, M/M, Misgendering, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Other, Oviposition, Surgery, Unconsciousness, forced ovulation, semi consciousness, unsanitary conditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/AurigaVenatici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two Princes are kidnapped by the Red Dragonflight, and forced to take part in a project to repopulate the Black Dragonflight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anduin is a cis man; Wrathion is a trans man. To my eternal regret, we have to go with mpreg logic for Anduin's role in this fic.
> 
> Please, please, PLEASE heed the noncon warning. Really really. Not light or fluffy.
> 
> The misgendering is in the form of the Red Flight repeatedly referring to Wrathion as his birth-assigned name (which I headcanon to be Zeustrasz); although -strasz is still a masculine gender, it's not Wrathion's chosen gender, and that name is representative of Wrathion's initial captivity by the Red Flight.

"You  _can't_  do this! I won't let you!"

The man was making an extremely undignified amount of fuss, Corastrasza thought. Very unbecoming of a supposed Prince. Still. She supposed that would change soon.

"It's not about whether you're going to let us, Zeustrasz. I'm afraid you've failed in your duties to repopulate your species for far too long already."  
"My name is  _Wrathion_!" He spat sparks at her. "I've had  _other things_  to be getting along with, you horrible creature! I have the situation under control! Now let me  _go_!"  
"I'm sure you know as well as I do that begging is only going to make you look even more pathetic," drawled the Red dragon, folding her arms and looking down on her captive with disdain. "It will do nothing to impede our decisions. You will be transferred to the facility along with your partner--"  
" _Partner_?! What  _partner_?!"  
"--and kept there for testing and development, until such a time as--"  
"Testing and  _development_?! I'm not a  _tool_!"  
"--we deem you no longer necessary, whereon we  _may_  consider you for release back to your respective posts."  
"You'll keep me for no such time! You'll release me  _immediately_!"

Corastrasza rolled her eyes. She'd heard stories that the reason the Dragonmaw had preferred her kind for mounts was that they were less unruly than the Black flight, and she was beginning to believe it. "I'm afraid not, Zeustrasz. You're ours now."  
"I am  _not_! I'll-- I'll not shapeshift! You can't make me!"  
"Debatable."  
"I won't do it! You can't make me lay eggs in humanoid form, can you?! Ha!"  
"I'm afraid we can." She waved a hand to one of the drakonids restraining him. "I'm bored of this conversation. Sedate him so we can get him transferred."

" _NO_!" Wrathion redoubled his efforts to get free, shapeshifting erratically - partly out of panic, and partly out of trying to squirm out of the dragonspawns' grasp. All it meant in truth was that he was stuck in a half-form, humanoid but with horns and wings and tail, when they finally managed to clap the metal dragonsbane collar around his neck. After that, he felt a sharp pain in his thigh - and reality melted away from around him, his protests dying in his throat with his consciousness.

-

When he came 'to, he was somewhere warm.  _Very_  warm. Or... he thought so at first, at least. He groaned and tried to move, his tail and wings trapped painfully between his back and the metal plate he was apparently leaning against - only to find he was restrained by harsh metal cuffs at both his ankles and wrists. His neck was pinned down, too, by a metal collar.  _Those_  things were cold, and he was apparently without clothing. So then... it must have been  _him_  that was warm, not his environment. But why...

Drowsily, he opened his eyes. He was not prepared whatsoever for what he saw.

Anduin Wrynn was pinned up opposite him, too. He, too, had cuffs at his ankles and wrists, though they were rounded at the edges and cushioned on the inside where Wrathion's weren't. He was also without clothing - and he... he was sweating, blushing, his blond hair sticking to his forehead as he panted with effort. Dread in his heart, Wrathion's eyes travelled downwards. There was some kind of... Titan  _machine_  encompassing the entirety of Anduin's hips, and he seemed to be thrusting into it.

"{Fascinating, isn't it?}" a voice interrupted by his side. The language was Draconic, but the accent was Red. Wrathion hissed lightly and angled his head up so he could try and see who was speaking.

He didn't recognise the man, stood in his humanoid form, though his skin was the crimson red you'd expect from a dragon - not any mortal.  _He_  was fully robed, and observing Anduin with a clinical disconnection. "{He's very eager to provide samples, you know,}" he continued. "{Or well, he was after we gave him some medication. We chose him because his affinity with the Light means his offspring will be resistant to corruption, and his calm temperament will offset yours. The machine will bridge the species gap for us. It's fascinating.}"

Wrathion tried to start spitting fire and cussing at the smug man. How dare he speak of anyone in such a way?! Anduin wasn't a  _pet_  to be  _bred_  for-- for mere  _disposition_! And neither was Wrathion himself! But all that came out of his mouth were a series of slurred syllables, followed by some saliva. Very dignified...

The Red laughed. "{You must almost be ready too,}" he said, with a calm smile very much inappropriate for the awful situation they were in. "{Now you're conscious and we can monitor you properly, we can start.}"

Wrathion tried to ask what he meant, but he was still too addled from the sedatives to form words, much less try to escape. He  _hated_  this. The smug man moved over out of Wrathion's vision, and talked quietly with someone else in a dialect of Draconic that Wrathion didn't know; they must've developed it after learning that Wrathion, as a hatchling, had decided to escape after he'd heard them scheming. He hated them  _all_.

When he returned, he had a needle-less syringe filled with some kind of gel. His clawed hand - cold against Wrathion's super heated skin - pushed his jaw open with forefinger and thumb. Wrathion tried to pull away, but he was still weak and uncoordinated. The red dragon then forced the syringe past Wrathion's lips, and, pressing on the syringe's plunger, pushed the contents down his throat. Wrathion had no choice but to swallow.

A stifled moan bubbled its way out of Anduin as Wrathion felt the bitter-tasting liquid take effect. It was almost immediate - he felt himself flush even hotter, even while the rest of the liquid was still being administered, and by the end of it he was absently suckling on the syringe. The other dragon laughed at that as he pulled it away; Wrathion found himself whining and rocking his hips helplessly against the air. What had they  _done_  to him?

The Red reached for a clipboard and began taking notes on what changes Wrathion underwent. His breathing picked up, his back arched whenever the dragonsbane collar pinched at the back of his neck; he'd started sweating too, just like Anduin was across the room, and his lower lips were starting to not only swell, but DRIP. "{I suppose it's obvious what we're doing here,}" the Red explained, "{but I'll explain for your peace of mind, insofar as we're inclined to give you any.}" A curt smile. "{We're putting you into an artificially accelerated heat so you'll produce eggs for us. We're using a lot of the same cocktails Rheastrasza used on your mother, in fact--}"

He stumbled back with an alarmed yelp as Wrathion, finding sudden strength, breathed a gout of flame aimed at the Red. The dragonsbane collar should have prevented that, but, well... it was only an enchantment. Enchantments could be overcome, with a strong enough will, and if Wrathion had one thing, it was  _certainly_ one of those. Although it didn't help him to escape and it certainly didn't help him to overcome the drugs rapidly taking stronger hold on his body, it at least amused Wrathion a little to see the smug Red scrambling for cover outside the room they were being held in.

Now they were more or less alone - Wrathion had no doubt there was some kind of surveillance device which meant the Reds were still monitoring them - he decided to call out to Anduin.

"A--Ahh..." His first attempt came out more like a  _moan_  than a name, so he whined and tried again. "An-- Anduin--?"

The priest  _did_  raise his chin, though his eyes remained half-lidded. Surprise passed blearily over his face. "Wrathion..?"  
Wrathion nodded mutely.  
"When did you--!" He paused to throw his head back as another orgasm shuddered through him. The device was unrelenting; it had been milking him for a long while already, and it wasn't about to stop until it had met its quota, or Anduin was physically incapable of continuing. "When did you get here?"

Wrathion shrugged. He tried to speak, but again it came out as a slurred mess; so he tried again, slower. "I don't know... I was--" he tried to say 'unconscious', but his jaw fell slack again as a shiver ripped through his  _own_  body. It was replaced with a moan, and... suddenly he lost his train of thought.

"It's gon-- be alright, though," came Anduin's voice, surprisingly clear through the haze of arousal coating all of Wrathion's senses. "People are coming for us."  
For  _you_ , Wrathion thought. He idly wondered if the King of Stormwind would simply leave him behind, what with him being a Black dragon and all.

Once again, his thoughts were obliterated by a surge of arousal. He had a horrible feeling this was going to go on for far too long. Already he could feel a weight growing inside him - he knew they were going to be making him lay his eggs artificially quickly, but he didn't think it would be  _this fast_.

Whines of pleasure soon turned to whimpers of pain as the soft-shelled egg began to work its way out of him. He called out Anduin's name helplessly; the priest repeated Wrathion's name back to him, reassuring him he was there, even if he couldn't hold him or ease his pain much more than the cocktail of drugs was already doing. But it was over after a few minutes - the egg dropped harmlessly out of him and into... something. Wrathion couldn't see beneath himself, but he never heard it hit the floor, so it must've either landed on or in something safe. Somehow, he felt a wave of relief - even now, when being forced by malevolent forces into doing this, the idea of his eggs being harmed or mishandled was too painful for him to think about.

Soon enough, he felt another swelling inside him. The weight felt just as pleasing as before, and its passing was less painful - he still winced when it reached the tender scar tissue that lay inside his entrance, but at least he'd already been stretched a little. Again, he didn't hear it hit the floor, so it must've been caught.

"A-Anduin?"  
"Wrathion..."  
"Can--" he  _moaned_  as the third egg began growing inside him. "Can you see-- where they're going?"

Anduin raised his head. He was starting to get tired. "I, uh--" He struggled to focus, squinting in Wrathion's direction, "there's-- some kind of... Titan... tube..? It's taking them somewhere... outside the room, I don't know..."

The third egg's passing was even easier than the second's, and soon enough Wrathion was finding far more pleasure from the sensations of producing them than he was pain. Each swelling inside him filled him with a strong sense of protectiveness, and each soft egg pushing its way out through his entrance made him moan and shudder.

Wrathion had lost count of how many he'd produced by the time another Red dragon entered the room. It wasn't the smug man from before; regardless, Wrathion's fight was almost entirely gone, by now. He was a shuddering, drooling mess - though nowhere near as much as Anduin, who looked like he was ready to pass out and had stopped responding to Wrathion several minutes ago. Presumably, that's why the dragon had come in; sure enough, he pressed a series of runes on the side of the Titan machinery enveloping Anduin's hips, and it parted. Wrathion, despite himself, watched with fascination - the machine seemed to have a textured rod at the back for anal stimulation, as well as a collection cup at the front. It was vrykul-sized, obviously originally built to take samples from beings newly afflicted with the Curse of Flesh, yet somehow Anduin had taken it. Amazing...

The Red released Anduin's bonds and picked him up in the manner of carrying a non-compliant prisoner (which Wrathion supposed he was, really) and dragged him out of the room. Wrathion found himself peeping after him - he suddenly felt much more frightened, now Anduin was gone.

Without his partner to speak to, he didn't know how much longer he stayed hooked up to the egg collector. It felt like weeks, though he knew logically that his body wouldn't have been able to survive that long without food or water. He was barely conscious by the time he, too, was removed from his bonds and moved into a different room.

-

He vaguely remembered hearing people speaking in Red-accented Draconic about anatomy alteration, compliance training, and medication regimes. He remembered biting someone's hand as they tried to force something new into his mouth. And he remembered hearing Anduin cry out in pain. But those were the only snaps of consciousness he got before, finally, he began to feel the world stabilise around him in a new room.

It was much bigger than the last one - obviously still inside the same complex, judging by the similar patterns on the wall and ceiling - and it was minimally furnished. A large, double bed, with plain linen sheets and a flat-looking mattress. A pair of wooden stools. No carpets on the floor - just cold metal. Wrathion couldn't tell what kind; his earth-sense was disabled in equal parts by the dragonsbane collar still heavy around his neck, and the drugs coursing through his system. Wrathion himself was sprawled out in a corner; he could see someone on the bed. And he could also see... a heavy, locked door. And two sets of manacles up by the wall. In case one of them got unruly, obviously.

He couldn't see anything by way of a table to sit at and work, or a cubicle for them to relieve themselves in. He could see a grate in one of the corners - obviously that was what they were supposed to use. How undignified...

But then, what did he care about dignity, at that moment? He was sprawled naked in a corner with drool running out of his mouth and his own cum dripping out of his entrance. With a sigh, he tried to stand up to move over and see who was on the bed.

That was a mistake. He felt the world turn around him, and when it came steady again, he was sprawled out on the floor. Obviously not as coordinated as he'd hoped.

The person on the bed must've heard him fall, because they groaned and sat up. Wrathion's face lit up on seeing it was Anduin.

He seemed tired, but... altogether more coordinated than Wrathion was, because he was able to climb off the low bed and move over to Wrathion. "Are you alright?"  
"Mnn." Wrathion tried for a more coherent response, but yet again, it came out a slurred mess. Whatever they were giving him, it was doing a frighteningly good job of keeping him subdued.  
"The bed's more comfortable than the floor," Anduin said, and helped Wrathion up so they could lie down there together.

They didn't get to rest for long. The door opened - Wrathion, who was facing it when it did so, got a glance at the locked airlock on the other side. They really were planning to keep them here, and Wrathion was getting the sinking feeling they might succeed. Two drakonids came through from the foyer first, followed by a dragon in a tall elven form, followed by two dragonspawn carrying some fairly heavy-looking equipment on their backs and in their hands. Wrathion felt Anduin reach out and grip his shoulder, nervously. He wished he could return the gesture.

The dragon addressed the pair of them in Common, clapping his hands in delight. "Well! So glad to see you're both awake and acquainted."  
Wrathion thought it was debatable that he was truly awake, but wasn't capable of arguing.  
"We were rather hoping to get started on the next phase," the man continued, "so if you could both just lie right there while my assistants get started, that would be  _wonderful_."

Wrathion tried to disobey, but he really didn't have much choice. A single uncoordinated flail of his hand is all he managed before he felt strong, large claws gripping his shoulders and pinning him down. He felt someone grip his hand, and rolled his head to the side in order to see Anduin in much the same position, frightened and nervous.

Wrathion tried to say with his eyes the same thing Anduin had earlier - it was going to be alright. People were coming for them.

The dragonspawn carrying the machinery moved into position, one by each Prince. Suddenly Wrathion's was gripping his hips with their hands, using their claws to push another syringe - much like the one that had been used to feed Wrathion the aphrodisiac - into his yielding entrance; he couldn't see what the other one was doing, but it made Anduin yelp and gasp.

He knew it was the drugs, but Wrathion couldn't help but moan. He  _finally_  had something inside him; that was a luxury he'd needed for hours now, at least. Sure, it wasn't the penis his heat-addled mind wanted, but it was thick and unyielding and it made him feel  _full_.

The dragonspawn reached back with one hand now Wrathion had stopped struggling and activated the machinery on their back. All at once, Wrathion felt the syringe start spilling a hot, thick liquid into him. His vision blanked as he came, hard, unexpectedly - gripping Anduin's hand tightly as he groaned and shuddered. But that wasn't the purpose of this, he was sure.

It continued. There wasn't actually that much fluid at once; it seemed to be being pumped into him at a steady, agreeable pace. And after a few minutes, Wrathion figured out why.

Looking down at himself, he could see his stomach starting to bulge.

Involuntarily, he made a slightly alarmed noise. The Red dragon chuckled. "It's quite safe," he purred, hand cupping his own chin as he watched the two Princes with glee. "In fact, that's the whole point. We're only trying to make this more comfortable for you."  
"Make..." Anduin's voice was breathless and hoarse, "make what..?"  
"Why, your time as incubators, of course!" The dragon's unflappable grin unnerved Wrathion to the core. "After all, if we tried to use anyone  _else_ , then there's every chance their immune systems may reject the very eggs we want them to  _cherish_. And the gel we're using should make the adjustment period quite enjoyable for the both of you, so we don't want any complaints!"

Wrathion tried to spit sparks at the dragon to show what he thought of  _that_  idea, but all that came out thanks to the dragonsbane collar was a squeak. The gel itself was no doubt filled with more of the cocktail of aphrodisiacs and sedatives they were given earlier; Wrathion felt himself growing even weaker as more of it was pumped into him by the minute. The drakonid pinned him down firmer to the bed; the dragonspawn ensured the machinery remained in position, even as Wrathion tried to squirm. The nozzle of the syringe was pushed right up against his cervix, ensuring as much of the fluid ended up inside him as possible.

Wrathion made the mistake of looking over to Anduin; a mistake that almost brought him to another shame-inducing orgasm. The other prince's stomach was also visibly swollen, and they clearly weren't intending to stop making it bigger any time soon. Even the sight of what little they'd done so far was filling Wrathion with so many mixed feelings of protectiveness and arousal that he felt dizzy even lying down. He really did hope someone would be coming for them soon, because he couldn't see either of them being in much of a state to stage an escape  _now_.

Wrathion felt Anduin squeeze his hand as he, too, came to an unexpectedly strong orgasm. His cum dripped off his rising stomach as the machines continued to stretch them both; they were starting to look as though they had small footballs inside them. Wrathion wanted to ask them if they were doing this to Anduin's stomach, or some other part of his body - then he remembered what he'd half-overheard about "anatomy alteration". Must be some extra repository they'd added to him somehow.

"You know," the Red dragon said as he eyed where the two princes were holding hands, "I'm surprised you two bonded so quickly, for saying you hadn't met each other before all this."  
Wrathion tried not to let his incredulity show on his face. He supposed it was a  _good_  thing these dragons didn't know about their prior friendship.  
"Well, maybe we're--" Anduin paused in his sentence to gasp as he felt himself swelling even more, "--we're closer in t-temperament than you thought..."  
"Or maybe it's the drugs we gave you to make you more agreeable!" the Red sang, smirking almost meanly. "Either way, I'm sure it'll make this easier for everyone involved."

Further long minutes passed; the thrumming of the pumps was interrupted only by the groaning and whimpering of the two being filled by them. Wrathion risked a glance down, and felt a surge of not only arousal, but  _pride_  as he saw just how  _big_  his stomach had grown. How ridiculous...

Finally, Wrathion started to feel the fluids flowing out of him instead of into him. Regardless of the insistence of the machine, it seemed like he truly couldn't take any more. The Red nodded to his Dragonspawn accomplices; Wrathion didn't see what they'd done, but he felt something much harder pushed inside him. It adhered itself tightly to his cervix - then he felt the syringe being pulled out of him. He let out a pitiful whine, and felt himself trying to squirm back down onto it, desperate to keep something inside him. Judging by the alarmed noise Anduin made, he had also reached his limit.

"Well, it seems like we're done here," the Red announced. The Drakonids released their grip on the two of them, and although Wrathion tried to sit up, he found himself both too weighed-down by the mass of gel in his stomach to do so, and too compromised by whatever they'd put  _into_  the gel in the first place. It had renewed his arousal ten times over, and even the simple feeling of having Anduin's hand gripping his was  _wonderful_.

"Oh, and one more thing." The other dragon's voice was starting to grate on Wrathion's ears. "Don't try and remove the plugs we put in. They'll give you a rather nasty shock. Literally."

Thankfully, he left the room after that, as did his entourage. So Wrathion and Anduin were alone.

-

They remained alone for... a long time. Several days, if not weeks. Neither of them ever recalled seeing anyone come in to replace the sheets, clean up the mess they made every time they decided they wanted to touch each other, kiss each other, fill one another up with whatever bodily fluids they could provide. Neither of them recalled ever being fed, either - but they must've been, or at least watered, because both of them had a plentiful need to relieve themselves. They started off doing it in the grate in the corner, like Wrathion had thought of to begin with; by the end of the "adjustment period", they'd found much more creative manners in which to do so.

It was a  _surprise_  when the doors opened again. Thankfully, they weren't in the middle of anything, but they did both look an awful mess. Wrathion's hair was matted and tangled around his horns and wings, which had been folded almost the entire time; his stomach was still as distended as ever, and everything below his waist was a mess of both of their cum. It wasn't as if they had any method of washing available to them. Anduin wasn't in much of a better state; at that moment, he was sprawled out on the bed in exhaustion, his cock twitching from their most recent session and his blond hair sticking to his forehead.

Wrathion stared at them, dazed. It took him a few moments to figure out what he was looking at - three dragons in their humanoid forms - one with a clipboard and two wearing labcoats and medical gloves - and four drakonids. No machinery, this time. Before he had time to react in his drugged state, he felt drakonid hands encircling his limbs and dragging him upright; the weight in his belly shifted as they righted him. He made a pitiful peep at being separated from Anduin, but before he had time to further complain, he felt yet again a sharp pain in his thigh, and the world went dark.

When he woke up, he felt much lighter, and even somewhat clearer in the head. But he had a feeling it wasn't going to last for long.

This time, the dragons overseeing him and Anduin didn't address him or greet him on waking. They simply continued setting up the machinery that both princes were locked into. Again, they were facing each other; again, they were both chained up and restrained; again, Anduin's restraints looked much more comfortable than Wrathion's. But this time, the machinery was slotted directly up against their respective entrances.

"{Initiate phase 3,}" one of the dragons said. Another one pulled a lever.

"{What's--}" Wrathion's words were cut off when he suddenly felt a strangely familiar pressure up against his entrance. It was-- the eggs, from earlier! The eggs they'd extracted from him! He knew he should've felt something  _else_ from the sensation of having something pushed inside him so forcefully as the machine was doing it, but he simply felt relieved that he was going to see them again. And to have them inside him? Even better. Maybe they'd even be rescued all together, this way. He didn't want to leave any of his potential future children in the hands of the  _Red Flight_ , of all people.

He lifted his face to see Anduin. The entrance of the eggs into him seemed to be more painful than it was for Wrathion; he was struggling to relax enough to take them into himself. Wrathion called out to him. "Anduin?"  
"W--Wrathion?" Anduin looked up; he didn't seem to have noticed Wrathion before. "You're still here!"

Wrathion had to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning as he watched the first soft-shelled egg slide visibly into Anduin's loose stomach, its passage eased by the distraction Wrathion had provided. Wrathion's own pre-stretched stomach also moved to accomodate the first of  _his_  eggs.

"I wouldn't leave you all alone now, would I?" He managed a smirk - the first expression other than dazed arousal that he'd made in days. It vanished when he started to feel the second egg work its way into him, very closely indeed followed by a third. They were still small and soft, not fully developed - indeed, in a natural reproduction, they probably wouldn't even have been outside of their producer yet, and Wrathion supposed that must be why there was a need to incubate them inside the two of them to begin with. That didn't mean that having lots of them suddenly pushed inside you wasn't alarming.

Anduin still seemed to be the one worse off, though. He gasped and whimpered in pain with every orb pushing its way into him, and the supervising Reds didn't seem interested in his plight. Or, well. Weren't interested in soothing it, anyway. They were taking an awful lot of notes on those dreadful clipboards of theirs. Wrathion wanted to burn them all - just as his mother and father had so many years ago.

"{Why are you being so cruel to him?}" he accused, sharply. "{Can't you see he's in pain?!}"  
One of the dragons looked up at him, surprised, then looked to their colleague and said something in that infernal dialect of theirs.  
"{Answer me! Don't you know he has long-term injuries? He doesn't need any more hurt than he's already in just from existing!}"  
The colleague the first dragon had spoken to eyed Wrathion, then Anduin. "{It pains me to say it, Zeustrasz, but you might be right.}"  
"{And don't call me that! It's Wrath _ion_!}"

The Red ignored Wrathion's ongoing protests, but did, thankfully, go for a bench with various phials and syringes set out on it. Wrathion went quiet as he selected a phial labelled with the Draconic for a painkiller, drew out a dosage from it, then approached Anduin. Wrathion didn't nod to confirm to Anduin that it was alright - after all, the Red could be lying to him about what was in the phials - but Anduin welcomed the syringe into his mouth anyway, and gladly suckled on it until the dosage was gone.

Thankfully, it seemed they weren't lying. Anduin's cries of pain grew less frequent, replaced instead by softer noises of curiosity or discomfort - and that meant Wrathion, for better or worse, could concentrate better on his  _own_  process. He'd lost track of counting how many eggs were inside him, yet somehow he had the intuition that there were six. Maybe they really  _had_  managed to successfully fertilise the damn things, and that was why Wrathion felt a connection to them... number seven was gradually working its way inside him, pushing up past his entrance and into his womb before neatly slotting alongside the other six. He was starting to feel full again, and Anduin was starting to look it, too.

They stopped at nine. Nine each. Once again, Wrathion felt heavy and full, unable to move as they let him down from the machine. He was too exhausted and weak to argue as they manhandled him back into the room they'd been kept in before; somehow, even though he didn't remember having been given anything, he was almost asleep by the time he lay back down in the simple bed. Anduin was in much the same state - so they slept there, hand in hand, as they always had of late.

-

Their next awakening would be their most welcome one in, it turned out, weeks.

It came with a loud bang somewhere in the complex. Anduin woke first; he gently shook Wrathion awake, staring urgently towards the airlock door. They could hear shouting, blasts of dragon's breath. For the thousandth time, Wrathion cursed his dragonsbane collar - and curled a wing protectively around Anduin's shoulder, his tail winding around his waist. It was the best he could do.

But, it turned out, the blasts they heard at their airlock door weren't a threat at all. Because the person who stepped out of the dust cloud first of all was none other than Varian Wrynn.

Anduin cried out incoherently, scrambling awkwardly to stand up and move over to his father; Wrathion felt a strange mix of gladness and jealousy. Now was the time when they'd see if they were really as together as he'd told Anduin earlier, he supposed. He eyed the rest of the group - he recognised Valeera Sanguinar, who was covering her mouth in shock at the state the princes were in; and none other than Gelbin Mekkatorque, who must've been the expedition's engineer. Of course a gnome would have an affinity for Titan technology... though obviously not enough that they didn't have to resort to blasting the doors open.

Varian had wrapped his cloak around Anduin and brushed his hair back out of his face (longer than he remembered it being) before turning his gaze to Wrathion, however briefly. "We have to get out of here," he said gruffly, moving to pull Anduin away from the room. So his suspicions were right, Wrathion thought bitterly. He'd leave him here to his fate after all.

But Anduin jerked his arm away from his father. "No! Not unless you bring him!"  
"But Anduin, we--"  
"I don't  _care_!" The Prince's glare was sharp, even in his vulnerable state. "Bring us both or bring neither of us."

Varian seemed to suppose that was it, then. He couldn't leave his son, and, for some reason, his son wanted to bring the awful Black dragon with him.

Wrathion remembered Valeera bombarding him with questions about one of his Blacktalons, which he met with a bleary silence, while she worked on getting his collar off. All he used the freedom to do was to shapeshift some clothes on. He couldn't very well turn to his dragon form, which was still small, with so many eggs still inside him. He remembered climbing into an Alliance airship nearby to the complex - it was night out, and his humanoid eyes couldn't see much of their surroundings. He remembered finding a table to curl up under - and sleeping very soundly, his worries soothed away by the engine of the airship.

The next time he woke, he was in Stormwind. It was a bright afternoon, judging by the quality of the light; a window was open, the breeze fluttering through it pleasingly. The bed was far more comfortable than the one in the Red Flight complex - slowly, he recognised some of the furniture around them. Anduin's room.

Anduin wasn't here, at the moment. Not that he could see. Maybe he'd been taken out for a medical examination or somesuch... Wrathion felt a pang of loneliness and worry, concerned Anduin had been taken from him and that he would not be returned.

But it was Anduin's room. So he had to be alright. And they'd brought him. They hadn't left him. Anduin had cared. Anduin had made sure.

They - and the eggs - were all safe. They were safe. They were going to be alright. No matter what horrors the Red Flight visited on them, they were going to be alright.

He breathed out, very slowly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrathion and Anduin cope with the aftermath of their time with the Red Flight.

It was several weeks after their terrible ordeal, and Wrathion had to admit - he was feeling much, much better about the entire thing.

Not at all due to the anything the Red Dragonflight had done, of course. They - much like after engineering his very creation - had not apologised, but merely responded in the manner of a moithering parent, trying to convince the pair of Princes that they were behaving like children and ought to come back under the loving wing of the Flight. They, of course, refused outright. And not a week after those sickly platitudes had arrived did Stormwind send a contingent of Alliance soldiers to retrieve what eggs of theirs were still held by the Red Flight.

But not just any soldiers. No. The thing that had pleased Wrathion the most was that King Varian Wrynn himself had agreed to helm the mission, in lieu of the Princes themselves - who would have gone were they feeling better. Varian was, of course, successful. And although Wrathion didn’t trust the man in many regards, he certainly trusted him to take proper care when it came to matters of family; before he’d left, Varian had spoken unequivocally of the eggs as his grandchildren, demanding that every last individual be brought safe and sound back to Stormwind.

And so they were. At this moment, they were safe and sound in a number of incubators in one of the guest rooms closest to Anduin’s bedroom; it was best for the Princes to each be able to check on them whenever they liked. Free or not, the hormones they’d been drugged with still affected them - as they rightly should, Wrathion thought. Regardless of how they came about, these children were not to blame.

Of course… there was the small matter of Anduin’s clutch. They had remained in his body at the point of their rescue, and for several days after that. Yet it became clear to all involved, Wrathion most of all, that his condition was causing him acute distress - he was, to put it plainly, sick. A doctor explained in calm, careful words that the eggs inside of him were pressing up against his organs and, due to the scarring they’d already received under the Divine Bell… it was a potentially life-threatening condition that the Red Flight had put him in.

Wrathion wanted them removed. Whelps be damned, and even if this was not their fault - he would not have Anduin distressed by their presence, or worse yet, _killed_ by it. By the look in Varian’s eye as this was explained to the three of them, he thought much the same. But both of them held their tongues.

They knew this was, first and foremost, Anduin’s choice. It _had_ to be. Anything less would be monstrous.

He had asked, quietly, if the whelps inside would survive if taken from his body. The surgeon said that, if placed into an incubator, they likely would. And so Anduin had quietly consented to the surgery, signed the forms, and was taken away.

Varian left with him, and Wrathion was alone in the room until a person in nurse’s uniform came to inform him that the surgery had been completed.

He didn’t know what to expect, on walking into that room. He feared the worst, of course - Stormwind did not trust him, and despite Varian’s words on his departure to the rescue mission, he still feared that they would view these whelps as alien to their own and therefore to be treated callously. Yet when he opened the doors, all he saw was Anduin, awake and largely strapped to his bed to prevent him moving so soon after the surgery was completed; gently cradling the eggs in his arms and placing them, one-by-one, into an incubator that had been wheeled over for him. He truly _had_ been allowed to choose, then. He smiled at Wrathion, and Wrathion smiled back - grateful to the deepest levels of his heart.

So here he was, his own clutch still within his belly - it would be ready to lay, soon, he knew, and without the doctors telling him. Unlike Anduin’s mortal body, so unused to the weight and bulk of the things, Wrathion’s draconic organs were both capable of taking much more pressure before they began to malfunction - and also of invoking his body to lay the eggs once it all got too much. He was also, as a lizard, capable of going for much longer without eating than his dear mortal Prince. The entire arrangement was much more tolerable for him.

So he didn’t opt for the surgery, despite it having been offered to him. A part of him still felt as though the eggs would be taken from him if removed thusly, despite all the reassurances he’d felt so far - so for his own comfort, he decided to lay them himself. And no one tried to push it on him. Which had him feeling very, very pleased indeed.

This time, he was able to count the days, and even turn the bedroom he’d been assigned into something of a comfortable nest in which to lay. No more clinical chambers. Even Varian helped to source comfortable cushions and blankets for the room, and an incubator was wheeled in - another sign, a reassurance, that Stormwind wanted to see these eggs hatch safely. Wrathion found himself stroking the incubator fondly one night, even though it didn’t contain anything yet - the other hand resting on his swollen stomach. This was a far, far preferable place to have one’s children. He could see why the Wrynn family liked it.

A thought buzzed in the back of his mind, constantly, that these whelps would be Wrynns as well. He feared that their patriarch would seize ownership of them from their other father and cast him out; after all, the Black Dragonflight had done much harm to this kingdom, before. But he silently hoped it was paranoia as he prepared to lay his imminent clutch.

Varian didn’t try to be in the room, this time. But Anduin arrived - able to walk again, now - and requested entry. Wrathion had refused even servants, lately, increasingly territorial as his impending labour loomed; but Anduin?

Always.

Without particularly thinking much about it, Anduin climbed into the nest which Wrathion had turned the bed into; and they embraced one another for the first time since they’d arrived back here. They’d both been so busy, really; Anduin with his health concerns, and Wrathion with his nesting. But now they wrapped their arms around one another and Wrathion inhaled Anduin’s scent, warm and sweet and just like home; and wondered when it got to be that way.

“How have you been?” Anduin asked softly, pulling back only enough that he could look at Wrathion’s face. “Aside from, um… pregnant, that is.”  
“Aside from pregnant? Very well indeed.” He nuzzled his face forward, nudging their noses together, and kissed his lips. It simply seemed natural to him. And Anduin seemed to agree; he returned the gesture. Little, soft, affectionate kisses were exchanged between the pair for a few moments - before Wrathion remembered himself, and thought to return Anduin’s very thoughtful enquiry. “And yourself? How have you been, aside from the surgery?”  
“Much like you. Aside from that, I’ve been well.” He smiled, and it seemed tired somehow; but the kind of tiredness that came with satisfaction, not the exhaustion he’d seen while they’d been held captive. “I feel much better. I never knew we had so many incubators in Stormwind…”  
“Perhaps your father had them built,” Wrathion suggested, and Anduin’s eyes widened.  
“Oh! Of course, he must have… that’s why we didn’t have them on day one.” Anduin laughed softly and rest his head against Wrathion’s shoulder, gently; Wrathion closed his eyes and nestled back into the bedding, feeling profoundly comfortable and safe.

And of _course_ that’s when it started.

A sudden tightening across his whole stomach, sharp and painful - but a moment after it began, a wave of calm washed over him, and he knew to breathe deep. He noticed after another moment that Anduin was also calm, stroking Wrathion’s hair and reaching to hold his hand as the contraction ebbed; a kiss to his cheek, and a quiet question.  
“Do you need anything?”  
“No,” Wrathion breathed, leaning his head back against the perfectly placed pillow. “Simply stay with me, my dear.”

Anduin nodded, and then that was that. It started slowly, of course - one contraction every half an hour or so - and during this time, they simply lay with one another. Anduin even fell asleep, at one point, his head resting on Wrathion’s shoulder, soft blond hair tickling Wrathion’s neck - until the next one came, and Anduin sensed Wrathion’s tensing through his drowsiness and awoke from it to kiss him again.

A thought crossed Wrathion’s mind, just once, but it was concerning enough that he wanted to voice it. “Anduin,” he asked, breathing deep as the pain of one such thing receded. “Are you here because you feel you must be?”  
Anduin paused, looking at Wrathion’s face. “Huh?”  
He looked at him, seriously. “Do you feel you _need_ to be here? Because of what the Red Flight did - you wish to be here to comfort me? Or because of the hormones they pumped us full of?”  
Anduin must have sensed the worry in Wrathion, somehow, because he gave the question serious thought before answering. Wrathion appreciated that.

Eventually, he spoke. “I came here today because I wanted to,” he said. “You were there for me after my surgery, and that made me feel so loved. I wanted to give that back to you. Maybe… maybe the reason we both feel so calm is because of something they did to us, but… it was my choice to come here. Did…” he paused, looking at Wrathion with worry, “do you feel like you had a choice in accepting me?”

It was Wrathion’s turn to think. In truth, he _had_ wanted company, and he would have felt very strange asking Left or Right. Anduin was the only person he actually _wanted_ to see, right now. It was true he didn’t know why that was - but his choice was to accept it, and to welcome Anduin in, and feel comfortable while doing this. That was _his choice_. That part, at least, was not in any way forced on him.

“I do,” he said. “And I still choose you.”

Anduin kissed him as the next contraction came along.

They began to come more quickly after each other, and Wrathion knew he was getting close. He could feel every sensation of it, now, no longer dulled by the chemicals the Red Flight had imposed on him - and, yes, it hurt. But it also felt like _victory_. This was pain he had _chosen_. Pain that Varian Wrynn had, ironically, fought for Wrathion’s right to experience. Pain he had seized from the maw of the Red Flight and taken for himself; he _owned_ it, it was _his_ , and that made it so much better than all of the strings-attached pleasure they could promise him with their foolish little letters. He had warned them once: he was to be left _alone_. And now he had a brood to protect? They’d better never dare touch him again.

He turned his head lazily to face Anduin, smiling at him. “The first one should be arriving very soon,” he said. “Would you like to watch?”  
Wordlessly, Anduin moved down to lie between Wrathion’s legs. He pressed a gentle kiss to Wrathion’s bare inner thigh, then asked; “may I… kiss you here?”  
Wrathion blinked down at him. “You _want_ to? I imagine things are going to get rather bloody, in a moment or two.”  
But Anduin just looked up at him, eyes wide and eager and loving - so Wrathion gave him a soft smile and reached down to stroke his hair. “Alright, then.”

Then all at once, Anduin was on him, licking the underside of his pseudo-penis and pressing his lips around it. It took Wrathion by complete and entire surprise just how _good_ that felt, and he found himself being whisked to orgasm far sooner than he thought possible - and only once he was shivering in the wake of it did he feel the first egg genuinely move into place. _Oh_ , Gods, he’d certainly forgotten how full it made one feel to be in this position. But with Anduin’s attentions, and no doubt the hormones flooding his system - entirely naturally, this time - he felt the egg pass out of him with relatively little pain indeed.

Awash with relief and the want-- the _need_ to see the thing, he sat up as best he could in his gravid state; but Anduin seemed to understand, and took the egg reverently into his hands. There were tears on the sweet Prince’s face as he handed the egg to Wrathion; it was warm, and _whole_ , and through its translucent ruby shell Wrathion could see a little life stirring. He held it close to his chest, whispering murmurings of affection to it in Draconic as he felt the next one move into place.

They came easier, after that; especially once Anduin moved back into position, once more kissing and suckling his pseudo-cock with all the affection and care that Wrathion thought it was possible for a person to emit. It was painful, yes, to push the second egg out of himself; but somehow, with Anduin here and the knowledge that all of the whelps inside him would be _safe_ , they’d be cared for by their _real parents_ and be afforded every comfort that Wrathion himself had not been as a whelp… he felt thoroughly relaxed, and thoroughly content.

Anduin brought the second egg up, and nestled it alongside Wrathion’s face on the pillows; Wrathion didn’t care for how wet they were as they came out, with his blood and Gods only knew what else, only that they were dried and kept warm. He’d nuzzle them and cradle them until they felt the correct temperature again; Anduin provided him gently with the third, and he did the same thing.

He looked down at himself, and brought one hand down to gently stroke at his belly. It felt tender and still swollen - he would guess at nine eggs in total, with six still being inside of him. Nudging them meant the next one had slid into place already - he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, Anduin’s by-now almost constant attentions helping ease the way. He could feel another peak of pleasure building within him, between all this. The egg filled his passage, and he shivered around it, helping it on its way; the eggs already nestled about his head reminded him of-- _everything_ about the situation, how perfect it was… and, unashamedly, he came.

He’d reached similar levels of pleasure while held captive, too, of course. But this was different. This was pleasure of the soul, as well - there was no bitterness, no hatred to be forgotten to allow such a thing to exist. Only love; for Anduin, for the eggs, and for himself.

The remaining five passed practically painlessly out of him, and by the end of it Anduin had piled them all up together like he knew exactly how to treat them. Wrathion made an off-handed comment asking Anduin if he was sure he wasn’t a dragon, to which the Prince grinned; and then Wrathion sucked him off, entirely shamelessly, wanting to reward him for the pleasure he’d brought to this experience. He tasted just as sweet as he smelled, his cries muffled into the pillows; and then, once he had reached his satisfaction, they bedded down together.

The eggs were between them, warm and safe; Wrathion knew they would be warm enough through the night, and they could move them to the incubator in the morning. As his exhaustion set in and sleep claimed him, he thought how grateful he was to have this moment - he couldn’t even bring himself to worry for what colour scales the whelps would have, for he knew they would be loved regardless. Every single last one of them.

And no one on Azeroth - not Varian Wrynn, nor the Red Flight, nor the awful Burning Legion - could take that from them now.


End file.
